Penance
The edges round themselves on the only half of the rail
as it is turning black with disease, revealing the sun dried veins
Cataclystic hands sprout themselves to crawl over the fourteen and reach fro my throat,
but the presence is false...
This mundane amusement tempts adrenaline to crave the next scene i fail to create.....
(I open my eyes) I never thought a bloodshot image to be so coy* with the theme
The failure to find the legerdemain* in the bar leaves it to be un expressed in jargon*
composed with a five finger heart...
Carried to an empty prison(my mental nook*)
by my own arms
and dropped by my shattered hands
(I close my eyes) Spill myself on the floor,
seeping through its pores
to find my way back to the end,
But i only found sunlight erasing every next scene...
The apology will be the next matrix to rise
deep in the dark,
where this sun will lose its spark...
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